Diabolical Dentistry

Guest Blogger: 
Midge Brontë - Anne, Emily and Charlotte's whiny half-sister 

Today The Crooked Clothesline welcomes Midge Brontë, little-known Victorian whiner and family embarrassment.

Miss Brontë, lamenting

It was the first day of a brief respite from my lowly position as an ill-used governess to several spoilt and unruly children. While I prepared to pay a call to a nearby dental office, the sky donned a deceitfully bright countenance. During my visit, the dentist fiendishly wrested a stubborn wisdom tooth from my lower jaw. Once the devil had done with me, I endeavored to then enjoy the remainder of my much-anticipated freedom. Ere long, the sky flung off her cheerful mask and darkened the heathered moors with sullen storm clouds.

Two days into my convalescence, the gaping hole in my gum, the size of all England, began to afflict me with the torments of hell.
Dry Socket is the disgusting name given to this perverse malady. The ignoble title doubles my suffering!  I have despaired of eating normal food and have been driven to absolute desperation by the inconvenience!  With subdued spirit, I sup on yogurt or soup.  My only solace is that I can manage to wedge spoonfuls of ice cream between my jaws.  

My hopes of productivity and diversion during this fortnight have been most cruelly murdered!  I blame the dental hygienist for not pressing upon me more ardently the importance of NOT sucking on a straw. Had I supposed she was serious, I should not have ordered a large Diet Dr. Pepper at the Sonic drive-thru window a mere two days after the savagery performed upon me.

Awesome Victorian label used courtesy of:
http://bumblebutton.blogspot.com/2011/07/victorian-rose-clip-art-for-labels-and.html  


Note from the Administrator: The views Miss Brontë expresses here are her own and do not necessarily reflect those of The Crooked Clothesline.  In fact, I happen to know that the staff members of the dental office Midge mentioned are very professional, gentle and kind. They also give very thorough instructions.  I think the lesson Miss Brontë needs to learn is, "Follow directions!"